a poem - Birth of an insurrection against profanes gods

I opened my heart with a silver knife
let my blood pray to evil gods
let my sins clean confused hands
and dreamed deep into purple nightmares
in whose lands
there won't be sunrise to forgive me
either no hands to warm my pain

Poor my penitent soul,
sleeping in unknown regions
will face greedy heavens
and will curse their sacred power.
                                        Carlos Lopez 2010